


At err and in fault

by Maritrar



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Brooding, F/M, Internal Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maritrar/pseuds/Maritrar
Summary: I miss Sanditon terribly, and still hope for a second season. Love the quiet conflict and attraction between Charlotte and Sidney, and so I wrote this. Completely freestanding and un-canon. Nothing is resolved, and I plan to leave it there. Just missed them both so much, and this is what my mind concocted.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	At err and in fault

Sidney Parker couldn’t rightly recall what had prompted Babington’s resolution to leave the comfort of the pub, nor could he believe Crowe had actually been persuaded to come along. Something regarding Miss Denham, he believed, had set it all off. He had not really payed Babington full attention, stuck in his own gloomy reveries of Tom Parkers overzealous endeavors, of his constant need for help; of the dependence on Sidney’s connections and now even his friends’. On top of it all that snide little house guest of Tom’s has the nerve to paint it out before him, all but ridiculing both his brothers while trying her best to butter him up. An all too common affliction in young women these days, the way their words are both sweet and full of poison at the same time.

This morning, Sidney knew for sure he’d made out her character, saw the apology she offered as empty words; only a ruse to get back into his good books. He had no conflicts dismissing her, made sure to do so in the clearest terms. For a split second he had seen genuine hurt in her eyes, before she composed herself and then reproached him for his conduct.

That; that above all rankled him. She was the one in err, a scheming, gossiping little thing; all he had done was to make his indifference known.

Somewhere along retracing his own thoughts and actions; surely for the hundredth time that day, Babington had somehow acquired his accept for a walk along the shore.

As Sidney pulls on the long cloak, he is of half a mind to conjure up an excuse and bid Crowe and Babington good day; he’s not good company when he is in such a mood, but it wouldn’t do. He owes it to his friends to keep them company, since he’s the one who dragged them all the way to Sanditon from London.

His lips tighten in resignation as he picks up the hat and his cane. Maybe a walk along the shore is just what he needs.

The step outside is instantly invigorating after the comfortable warmth of the pub. This morning had adorned a slowly thickening veil of clouds; the sky is now a bleak gray and the wind has picked up considerably. Even between the terraces, the odd gust of wind tugs at anything loose, swirling up dust and old scraps of newspaper.

Com evening, there no doubt will be rain.

Sidney gives his two companions a sideway glance, a ghost of a sardonic smile pulling at his mouth. Sidney grew up just outside of Sanditon and knows the turns of the weather intimately. His friends are city born and bred. He doubts any of them have a notion of what awaits beyond the grass-strewn dunes on the edge of town. There won’t be many walkers down at the beach, and Miss Denham will surely be safe somewhere warm and comfortable. However, neither Crowe nor Babington will call a quits on account of some wind, and Sidney will definitely not be the one to back out.

They make their way down the street, then onto the path towards the shore. The wind presses the grasses towards the ground and does it’s best to upend the few trees that has dared venture close to the shore.

Babington holds onto his top hat and laughs at the gale that threatens to steal it. Crowe looks dour as he pulls the coat tighter around his chest.

Sidney is quietly amused, Crowe looks decidedly uncomfortable, but holds his head high and strides along the beach none the less.

Babington flicks his arms out.

“Nothing like a little breeze, is there Parker?”

Sidney just inclines his head at this as they set of down the beach.

They walk in companionable silence for a while, watching the swell roll in to crash against the sand. Crowe picks up a stone and flings it as far as he can manage into the sea, then turns towards Sidney and huffs.

“Wine won’t cheer him up; he’s oblivious to the charms of the bar maids, however, draw him out in a howling gale and he comes to life.”

Sidney offers him a penitent smile.

“I have not been the company you deserve, Crowe, I am sorry. I promise to make it up to you once we get back.”

“Back where? In London or at the inn?”

Sidney picks a rock from the sand, stalling the reply. Babington sniggers at his feet as Crowe bends down, mirroring Sidney’s choice. Crowe is eager to get back into a glass again, but Sidney has no urge to go back just yet.

He flings the rock out to sea and watch it disappear into a breaking wave.

“Hah! I can do better than that.”

Crowe sends his own rock flying, and strolls on down the beach in search for another.

“It’s good to see the light returning to your eyes, friend,” Babington stands with both his hands resting at the pommel of his cane.

Sidney offers him a smile that’s somewhat stiff, then sighs and lifts his gaze.

“Come on, there’s a sheltered niche between the dunes just up ahead. It’s a fine place to watch the sea on a day such as this.”

They walk on down the beach, some half mile from town by then. He points ahead to a couple of bathing machines parked on just that sheltered spot between the dunes. The wind and the sea won’t get to them there, and they’re often left there overnight. There are no bathers today though, and therefore Sidney expects to meet no one here.

The three of them watch the sea as they approach.

That’s why he startles when Babington suddenly stops.

“Miss Heywood!”

Surely not…

He turns his head, and there, between the two bathing machines, stands none other than miss Heywood. Her coat has the color of a ripe field of grain, just a shade or two darker than the sand and she’d blend perfectly into the surroundings were it not for her dark hair. The dark locks falling in soft cascades around her face dances freely in the wind.

Stiffly, he lifts a hand to his hat in greeting. She looks about as pleased to see him as he is to see her, her face pale and her jaw clenched. Though her lips are pulled into a smile the sentiment does not reach her eyes.

A flicker of malicious satisfaction slithers inside his heart. She’s still angry with him and that suits him fine. If he’s lucky, she’s properly put off from any further pursuit of his company. It does not mean she’ll not try her tricks on others, though, and it seems Babington; so free and open with his charms, might likely become her next endeavor.

“What on earth are you doing here, Miss Heywood?” Babington sounds half amused and mildly alarmed. She smiles a little less stiffly at Babers, and Sidney watches the spectacle with rising disdain.

“I was admiring the view,” she says softly, flicking her eyes away. Sidney bites his tongue not to huff at her vain attempt.

“Admiring the view, in this weather.” Crowe flicks his arm at the sky and rolls his eyes in exasperation.

The girl flicks Crowe a gaze and does not answer. There’s a short tightening in her jaw and then she looks at Babington again.

“I dare say you should not go walking alone in such weather. Will you not walk back to town with us?”

Sidney is resigned to tolerate her presence, decorum demands it, and he expected nothing less from Babington, but when the man offers the girl his arm, she bites her tongue a second, draws breath as if to say something, and then decides against it.

Sidney furrows his brows. This indecision seems somewhat unlikely; it contradicts the purpose, he expected. For half a second Sidney wonders what she’s up to. Babington tilts his head to the side.

“Is anything the matter, miss Heywood?”

She presses her lips together once, then turns her treacle-brown eyes at Babington.

“I’m all right, but I seem to have sprained my ankle, sir” she says.

Sidney grumbles quietly at this new scheme and rolls his eyes as Babington of course falls prey.

He rushes to her side, lending her a hand, and Sidney is just about to turn his back on the whole charade when he sees the flash of pain over her features.

He halts then and watches as every fiber in her being stains with the effort of walking.

“Good Heavens, girl,” Babington exclaims in alarm.

There is no way to fake injury that well. Sidney has had months of his sister’s imaginings to know, that although pretending would benefit her cause, miss Heywood is not pretending.

“It’s fine, I assure you,” the girl stutters, “it subsides once I get going.”

Absolutely appalled, Sidney acts on instinct alone, stepping to her side in two short strides. Resolutely he grabs the girl by her waist and lifts her onto the edge of the bathing machine stairs, ignoring the sound of surprise she makes at being manhandled in such a fashion. He gently lets her go, then catches her gaze.

“Miss Heywood,” he says, indicating towards her foot, “will you allow me?”

Her eyes are dull and hard when she meets his gaze, all the coyness and lively sparkle of last night’s ball extinguished.

She gives him a stiff nod for answer, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Sidney holds her gaze a moment longer and senses the hardened resolve keeping her face straight. Then he gently cups her foot in one hand and slides off her shoe.

Her foot is small and fine, the arch pronounced, and when he slides his palm underneath her foot she swallows tightly. Her ankle is severely swollen, and there’s even a definite blue taint showing through the fabric of the silk stocking. The examination clearly causes her pain as he presses along her bones. Still she does not utter a single sound.

It kind of irritates him. He’s taken her for another headless young woman, but here she sits enduring in silence. Not something he expected.

Sidney sighs. He cannot surely tell the extent of her injury, some signs are frankly alarming, but the true toll can’t be decided out in the cold. Nevertheless, one thing is clear; walking must be agony and might do a great deal of harm.

Why would she not ask for help? This sort of carelessness is just the sort of immature conceit he is trying to smother in his ward. So far it’s been a fruitless endeavor; it seems inevitable with this age of the fairer gender and causes no short amount of irritation to him.

“I cannot tell for sure if it’s just severely sprained or if there’s a break of the bone,” he says and lifts his gaze to hers in stern honesty. For a second, her eyes widen, and for a moment he is looking straight into her soul, before she flicks her gaze away.

“You really should not go walking all by yourself, miss Heywood,” Babington says.

She flicks him a forced smile.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t much company this mo-…

She cuts the sentence off and bites her tongue.

“I really just needed a little time alone,” she offers in a hurry instead.

Sidney is momentarily rooted to the spot. His eyes flicks to her ankle, then to the soft sands around them.

“Miss Heywood; how did this come about?” he says with rising suspicion. “How were you able to injure yourself like this?”

His lips presses together on their own accord with the mounting irritation.

Again, she evades his gaze, then swallows before she gives an answer.

“I wasn’t looking where I was threading. I slipped, my foot got caught between two rocks and I fell.”

This delivered with a flat voice, but underneath there’s a tremble of repressed emotion; trepidation or irritation; he isn’t sure and frankly he does not care. He takes in her words, watching her blankly as he distinctly picks out the apparent flaws of the account.

“Your foot got caught between two rocks,” he says. “There’s nothing but sand here.”

Her jaw clenches once, then she lifts her gaze; a light of defiance shining there.

“There are more than enough rocks up on the hill,” she says.

Stunned silence washes between them and only the whistle of wind tousling her hair.

“The hills!?” Babington is about as alarmed as Sidney is. “You walked here all the way from the hills? But surely, that’s nearly four miles Parker?” Babington isn’t far off the mark. Frustration boils in Sidney’s gut as he calculates the distance she’s walked; sees the stress it’s caused the injury and senses the time passed. Clenching his jaw, he looks at the girl perched upon the stirs before him.

“Just how long have you been out walking Miss Heywood?” he says lowly.

She won’t meet Sidney’s gaze when he asks, nor does she lift her gaze when she answers.

“Since last I saw you.”

The answer tastes like ash in his mouth.

The clock was barely noon when he dismissed her in the street before his brother’s house and now it’s close to supper.

The bleak pallor of her skin suddenly alarms him, the dull gleam in her eyes holds another meaning than what he first discerned. She’s been exposed to the harsh winds for hours, and not only is she injured; she is thoroughly fatigued.

Sidney clenches his jaw and crosses a gaze with Babington. They need to get her home. At once.

“Come on Miss Heywood. Let’s get you home.”

He reaches for her hand, but suddenly she flinches. Her eyes flickers over his features, then steals a glance at Babington and Crowe, before meeting his gaze.

“I have no wish to prey upon your kindness,” she says.

Her words give him pause. There’s a message for him there, one that Babers’ and Crowe won’t readily pick up, but it’s easily discernable to him; he has already told her how little he cares. She’s utterly lost on her own and still deliberating to refuse help.

For once he finds himself thoroughly chastened; she’s afraid that he’s doing this out of mere obligation, that he’s reluctant to offer her aid.

He seeks her eyes, and finds her eyes cautiously regarding him and Sidney understand that he has done her wrong. Carefully he takes her hand in his and offers her reassurance.

“A man would have to be either blind or heartless not to offer you aid Miss Heywood, and I am neither,” he says and meets her gaze earnestly. In the corner of his eye, he perceives the curious look between his friends and knows there will be questions later.

The defensive light in miss Heywood’s eyes falls in flicker of relief.

“There, Miss Heywood,“ he says, “let’s get you back to Tom and Mary’s.” He guides her arm around his shoulder as the girl gathers her skirt. She makes to stand, bracing her weight against him as she is about to stand, thinking he’ll let her walk. Sidney has no intention of letting that happen. Before she can put weight on the injured limb, he puts an arm around her back and the other behind her knees and draws her from the perch and into his arms.

It’s kind of satisfying, seeing the confusion in her eyes; to stop the stuttering refusal on her lips.

“Mr. Parker, I-“

“You’ve walked more than you should on that foot already,” he says.

“But you need not carry me. I could-“

“Miss Heywood,” Babington now stops her. “There is really no way we could let you walk. And she doesn’t weigh much does she, Parker?”

“Quite right, Babington. She weighs no more than my nieces, and they tend to squirm whenever I tend to lift them up.”

Babington brightens in a wide smile.

“You see, Miss Heywood, compared to his nieces, you are no trouble at all.”

Good old Baber’s; all congeniality and warm comfort. To him it falls natural and he makes every assurance sound plausible.

Babington picks up Sidney’s cane along his own and carries Miss Heywood’s shoe in the other as they set off.

Out in the wind, there is a distinct chill and they haven’t ventured very far when Sidney feels the first tremble of frost through the girl’s gentle frame. Warmth seems to bleed from him where her body rests against him. She’s cold, too cold for his comfort.

“Someone should warn Mary, get a fire going in her room,” Sidney says.

Miss Haywood shoots him a startled look.

“No, please don’t – “

His friends cross a short gaze, all three of them ignoring the protests.

“I’ll go,” Crowe says, then strides ahead.

“- There’s no need to worry her.”

This while another involuntary tremble wrecks her body.

“Mary would want to know,” he says. “She’s probably already worried, if you have been gone all day.”

He ought to be annoyed by her pleas, would have been under normal circumstances, but finds that he’s not. He sees now; there’s no pretense to her appeals, they stem from a heartfelt wish not to burden. The gleam of devastation through her eyes before she presses her lips together in accept, confirms his perception and gives an earnest account of her heart.

Another good ten minutes pass before they reach Trafalgar place. By then the girl is shivering uncontrollably.

Thankfully the streets are all deserted, even the curtains are closed against the cold draft, all containing miss Heywood’s unconventional return home to their company alone.

The door opens immediately upon their arrival and Sidney steps over the threshold carrying Miss Heywood in his arms to Mary’s worried voice.

“Oh dear, how on earth did this happen, Charlotte,” Mary’s concern is evident

“I-I’m quite a-alright,” Miss Heywood says, but the shiver in her voice takes something from her reassurance.

“A change of clothes, Mary, and then a strong toddy,” Sidney says as he strides on into the house.

“Of course,” Mary says turning around and giving the necessary directions to her staff.

Sidney continues up the stairs, alarmed at the shivers wrecking the delicate frame in his arms. One of the maids opens the door to the guest room and Sidney steps through the door, consciously aware of the breach of protocol as he enters her room and sets her down on the bed.

She raises her gaze as he straightens, the dark orbs flittering over his features then away, bashfully.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” she says quietly. To spare her further discomfort Sidney hastily takes his leave.

Out in the hallway Mary comes rushing along with a mug of steaming toddy in hand. She halts momentarily when he seeks her gaze.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” he says lowly. “When she’s made comfortable, I’d like to have a proper look at that foot, and then it ought to be bound.”

Mary knows he has some experience in this field. Not something he’s proud of, and not something she’s ever applauded as it comes from needing to bind his own sore libs after fights. Mary, however, is a practical woman and instantly sees the merit of the request. She nods her consent with a short notion.

“I’ll come and get you,” she says and then she hurries on into miss Haywood’s room.

Sidney glances after her even when the door is closed. Then he draws a hand down his face and straightens before going downstairs.

In the hallway, Babington and Crowe are waiting Crowe with idly wandering attention, Babers’ observant and ready.

“I’ve promised Mary I’ll look to her injury once she is comfortable,” he says in regards of information. “I’ll need to stay a while.”

Babington thins his lips and gives him a short nod, while Crowe just fleetingly crosses a gaze with him.

“We’ll regroup at the pub at your convenience, then.” Babington gives him a glance that lets him know he has questions. No surprises there, that Babers has picked up on the awkwardness between him and Miss Haywood.

Sidney gives him a nod in resignation.

“Until later.”

Sidney goes to the drawing room, pours himself a finger of brandy and sits by the fire while he waits, cradling the glass in hand.

He knows he has flaws, knows he’s sometimes rash; that his temper is not always what it should be, but it has never before brought harm on another person. Not before this. Not before this slip of a girl painted out his brother’s character in clear lines.

He sighs and draws a hand over his jaw.

 _‘The sensible brother’_ ; indeed.

Often, he is, but not when it comes to his family. Her portrayal had hit a little too close to home; he had not expected it from her. Her coquettish demeanor he interpreted in the worst possible way, when more likely it was a flustered reaction to being put in an awkward spot.

Sidney takes a swallow from the glass, relishing the burn down his throat as he stares into the fire.

Had it only ended there.

In the morning, he had awoken to a bad headache; which always put him in a bad mood. Topped with the prospect of telling Tom he and his friends were leaving, had not put the morning in any brighter perspective either. His words to her were harsh and unreasonable. Another headless girl he had thought her, and then she had bestowed upon him another brilliantly insightful comment.

Her words at the ball had cut him deeply, and although unintended, he’d been hurt. At the time he’d fooled himself to believe it was not so, at her behest of forgiveness he had spoken in barbed terms with intention, not indifference.

At least, now he sees this clearly, he has a chance to make amends.

He does not know how much time passes while he waits, but it’s a good long while he’s been sitting with the empty glass in hand when he hears Mary’s soft steps on the stairs.

When she appears, there’s a concerned frown upon her brow as there often is, Sidney finds, but it takes nothing from her beauty.

“She’s settled, but she’s still a little shaken I think,” she says. “At least we’ve got some warmth back into her. The poor thing was shaking like a leaf. I only hope she won’t catch a cold from this outing. To go walking the hills in this weather!”

She shakes her head and wrings her hands like a concerned mother would. A flash of fondness flitters through Sidney’s chest towards his brother’s wife.

“She has a healthy constitution, Mary; and by what little I’ve discerned I’d wager it’s not the first time she’s ventured out in stormy conditions.”

Mary gives him a reassured smile.

“You are probably right,” she says in thought before lifting her gaze. “Now, should we see to her ankle? I think she should be allowed to sleep soon.”

Sidney stands and sets the glass down on the mantle, then follows her through the house.

Miss Heywood is braced against a stack of pillows and tucked under thick down covers. The matte gloss of her eyes speaks of increasing fatigue, but the distress is all gone and there’s a rosy glow of warmth in her cheeks.

He tries for a reassuring smile as he enters the room, greeting her with a simple ‘Miss Heywood’ before settling down on the edge of her bed by her feet.

The injured foot is elevated upon a thick cushion, resting stably in the soft brace. He slides a hand under her calf and sets to the examination.

The swelling is pronounced all the way down to her heel, her skin marred in blue and purplish bruising. Her toes have a healthy taint, and when he seeks it there’s a good beating pulse beyond the injury. The discoloration looks awful, but the placement and direction are signs of ligatures having taken the strain. He lifts his eyes to her face as he braces his free palm under her foot and presses against the direction of the bone. There is a flitter of pain over her features, but not the flare of bone deep agony he feared. Gripping her heel, he reverses the movement and draws on the bone instead. There’s clearly discomfort, but not the amount that would come from broken bones.

Satisfied, he lays her foot down.

“Considering everything, I think it’s just a sprained ankle.”

Mary’s respite is palpable as she sighs in relief.

“Oh, that’s very good news, Charlotte!”

Very good news indeed. Sidney had been quietly horrified to learn how far she’d walked on the injured foot. A broken bone would be bad enough if left to heal; but walking upon it…; the sharp edges of broken bone can cut through tendons and veins, causing severe lacerations inside and do irreparable harm.

She might have lost the limb entirely.

Sidney sees no reason to upset the women further though, and clenches his jaw upon the information as he reaches for the roll of linen bandage handed to him when he signals the maid.

“Either way, miss Haywood, I think you should stay off your feet a couple of days, and keep the foot elevated.”

He glances her way and receives a careful nod of confirmation before he sets to lay the wrapping. He concentrates on achieving a neat, even fishbone pattern, all the while checking that it’s tight enough to give the necessary support but not so tight it restricts the flow of blood. When he’s finished and secures the end it looks just as good as what the doctor has done for him on a few occasions.

He folds the cover over her foot and gets to his feet.

He ought to apologize to her for his behavior, but it will have to wait. His presence in her room is already a step over the boundary of normal decorum; him a being a bachelor and she a young lady. Mary will have enough trouble keeping the staff from gossiping without him giving them further fuel for talking. The apology will have to wait.

The girl meets his gaze, her brows furrowed in concentration. Her cheeks are prettily flushed, the dark lashes framing her dark eyes perfectly.

“Thank you, Mr Parker,” she says.

There’s a reserved caution in her warm brown eyes where she lies watching him, her brows furrowed and her rosy lips slightly pursed. Her wavy hair spills out over the pillow, down her shoulders, the dark locks stands in contrast to her fine skin. The picture seems to burn into his mind as he suddenly notices her beauty.

“You’re welcome, Miss Heywood,” he says and withdraws his gaze before anyone will notice. He flicks her a last short look, the bows and bids goodbye.

\---

The next morning breaks with a clear blue sky and fair winds. After enjoying a good long breakfast Sidney leaves Crowe at the inn while he and Babington walk in company towards Trafalgar Place. Babington is on his way to call on Miss Denham, while Sidney means to call on Mary and inquire after miss Heywood’s health.

“A word of advice, my friend,” Babington says, shooting him a sideway glance, “I do not believe the poisons of the London society have reached Sanditon just yet, and a place like Willingdon must surely be quite unaffected.”

Sidney regards his profile until Babington turns and meets the gaze. Sidney sighs.

“I judged her too harshly, I know. I mean to make my apologies to her when I can.”

“Knew you would, Parker.” Then with a short nod he is off towards Denham place.

Sidney walks the short distance to his brother’s house and doesn’t bother to knock as he enters. He is always welcome at Tom and Mary’s; feels practically at home there. As he hangs away his coat, he hears merry voices in the small parlor, expects to find Mary and the girls there at this time of the day. He ventures after the sound and stops just short of the doorway to spy; thinking fondly of the way Mary treats her children and the warmth permeating Tom’s home.

But it isn’t Mary he finds in the parlor with Alicia and Jenny, it’s Miss Heywood. Reclined on the sofa and propped up against a small plethora of cushions she’s reading to the two girls. They are squashed up against her, their faces bright and dreaming..

A creak in one of the floorboards turns their eyes at him, and a second later he is almost bundled over by the two girls.

“Uncle Sidney!”

“Good day, girls.” He cannot help but smile at their exuberance. Who could not at such a greeting, he muses as he lifts them up in turn, tossing them up in the air at their requests, then putting them safely down on their feet.

“Is it true, uncle Sidney? Is it true you rescued Charlotte?”

“Well.” He presses his lips together containing a sudden bout of amusement. He has not even greeted Miss Heywood properly, before being bombarded by his nieces.

“Mama says you carried her all the way home,” Alicia says.

“Did she now?”

“She has injured her foot, you know,” Jenny pipes in.

“I know,” Sidney concedes. There’s barely room for him to answer between the young ones’ excited chatter.

“And she’s can’t walk; she had to hop all the way down the hall.”

“Oh, really,” Sidney says casting a glance at Miss Heywood. He had wondered how she’d gone about the venture downstairs. “I was under the impression she was confined to bedrest.”

“Mama, said she ought to stay in bed and that if she came come downstairs we weren’t to bother her, because she has to rest,” Alicia offers.

“Well, your mama knows best, does she not?”

Both girls nod importantly at this and Sidney finds the opportunity to redirect their attention.

“Speaking of your mother; will you run along and tell her I am here? I need to speak to her, you see.”

As he hoped, the girls both disappear to find their mother, bestowing him a moment of solitude alone with miss Heywood.

“Miss Heywood,” he greets quietly as he turns towards her.

“Mr. Parker,” she replies softly. Her features are striking in the morning light and the roses shortly flushing her cheeks does not diminish her beauty. She is a pretty little thing; all soft lines and gentle curves. Sidney wonders when he started considering her beauty, confused at what prompted such a change. Searching his mind, he realizes he’d hoped to see her, coming here, although he had imagined it in quite another setting.

“I had hoped for news of your good health, Miss Heywood, but I did not expect to find you up and about,” he says.

She smiles to her own hands then lifts her gaze to him.

“You do not approve,” she says and lifts her brows a fraction. A challenge, if ever there was one.

He clenches his teeth together a second in thought before answering.

“I seem to remember advising otherwise.”

A little laughter trickles from her mouth like the waters of a small stream.

“There’s nothing to gain from staying in bed but cultivating idleness,” she says. “I’m not doing much more here, but at least I am of some use.”

The statement germinates vexation in his heart. Why is it so hard for young women to take guidance? If only she knew how close she came to serious harm last night, how it had horrified him to see the extent of her injury or the ice that poured into his veins when at the beach he could not find a puls in her foot. Maybe that would have put some respect for her own health into the equation. Still, Sidney cannot bring himself to give her the true lay of the land either.

He presses his lips together. She awaits a response, her dark orbs glittering with reflexes of sunlight as she considers him.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” he allows, but his mind supplies the responses he wishes to give; that she ought to have stayed in bed, that Mary can very well manage without her assistance for a couple of days.

It’s not the right mindset in which to make excuses for past lacks in behavior and frankly it would do no good, when she’s once more in err with her own conduct.

Sidney contains his irritation and takes his leave soon after Mary arrives, quietly frustrated with the willful demeanor and lack of compliancy that seems to mar young women around him. It’s like an epidemy, spreading through the land, - or at least inflicting the ones he comes into contact with.

It’s maddening.

Sidney sighs as he makes his way through town.

The fact that his mind can’t seem to forget Miss Heywood’s gleaming, hazel eyes in no less annoying.


End file.
